The Haunted Homestead. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

the scene of the mystery.

      When we reached the parlor, we found a party of young people collected to celebrate Christmas Eve. But scarcely were the introductions over, before a servant opened the door and announced supper, and, conducted by Mrs. Legare, we all went out by way of the hall and the covered piazza to the dining-room in the old house, where the feast was spread.

      I cannot stop to analyze the sensation with which I crossed the threshold of this mystery-haunted house, and entered the quaint, old-fashioned parlor, where the supper table was set. The polished oak floor, the oak-paneled walls, the high, narrow, deep-set windows, the tall, black-walnut chimney-piece over the broad fireplace, flanked by a high cupboard in one corner, and a coffinlike clock in the other—all whispered of those who had lived and died there long years before. There was a well-spread and cheerfully-lighted table, and a merry, youthful company assembled around it; but even these animating influences were not sufficiently powerful to exorcise the thoughts of the dead—for, talkative and frolicksome though they were, their talk was still of the supernatural, of ghosts, and ghosts' seers. I did not talk—I was too earnestly interested in hearing. And I listened breathlessly to learn the mystery of the house. In vain! not a single allusion was made to a spectre in connection with Wolfbrake Lodge. They ignored the supposition. Perhaps they were really ignorant of it.

      Supper over and cleared away, the young people returned no more that night to the parlor in the new house, but prepared for a game of "Snap-apple" in the old dining-room, which their romping could not hurt.

      I was so weary with my three days and nights of riding, and so eager besides for a tête-à-tête with Mathilde, that I pleaded fatigue as an undeniable reason for retiring before the games should commence. I hoped that Mathilde alone would attend me. Not so. Mrs. Legare, apparently watching for my withdrawal, joined her daughter and myself as we left the room, and accompanied us to the chamber set apart for my use in the new house. When we had reached this apartment, Mrs. Legare said:

      "There is no one that sleeps in this house usually. We keep these chambers principally for the use of our guests. No one will occupy any room within it to-night except yourself, unless indeed you feel afraid——"

      "Afraid?" repeated I, in a tone that quickly called forth an apology.

      "Oh! I know, my dear Agnes, that you are no coward; but I did not know but that you might feel indisposed to sleep alone in a strange house."

      "What? when it is a perfectly new house, Mrs. Legare? If, indeed, it were an old-time house, I might be afraid of the traditional ghost," said I, watching in her countenance the effect of my words, and seeing her, to my astonishment, turn pale, and send a quick, significant glance to Mathilde, who averted her head.

      "Ah!" thought I, "the old house is haunted! Would they would only let me sleep there, where there is some chance of being delightfully frightened."

      "I was about to say, Agnes, that if you prefer, I will send one of the negro women to sleep on a mattress in your room."

      "By no means, Mrs. Legare. I shall fall asleep as soon as I touch my pillow, and not wake until morning—so I should not be able to appreciate the benefit of Peggy or Dinah's society."

      "Very well, my dear, as you please. Here is a bellrope at your bed's head—its wires run into the old house. If you should want anything, ring."

      I smiled, and assured my hostess that I wanted nothing but sleep. Whereupon she called Mathilde, bade me good-night, and left the room. Turning back, however, she said to me:

      "Agnes, my dear, lock your chamber door after us."

      "Yes, madam."

      "Excuse me, my dear; but young people are forgetful—especially when they are tired and sleepy. I think I should like to hear you lock it, Agnes."

      There was something in her caution that struck me as very singular—but I laughed and went to the door, and after repeating my good-night, as desired, shut the door in their faces, and locked it.

      "There! have you heard me lock the door?" I inquired.

      "Yes, my dear—all right."

      "And is your mind at rest on that score?"

      "I am sure that you have attended to my advice. Good night, and happy dreams."

      "Thanks, and the same good wishes! Good-night!" said I, in conclusion.

      I listened, and heard them go downstairs, enter the parlor, and fasten the windows, and secure the safety of the fire there—go to the back hall door, and bolt and bar it—and finally go out by the front door, and lock it after them.

      Fastened up as I was in the house, I did not feel myself quite in prison, because, should I, like Sterne's starling, want to "get out," I could do so by the back door.

      Now, I never could account for it, but no sooner was I left alone in that room, resplendent as it was with newness, than a strange feeling of superstition came over me, that I could neither understand nor escape. It was in vain that I turned my eyes from the shining white wall and freshly painted windows to the cheerful pattern of the carpet and furniture drapery, and said that in this new and freshly furnished chamber the supernatural was out of place—there grew upon me the impression of an unearthly presence near; and the feeling, in spite of all probability, that this—this was the scene of the household mystery—this was the haunted chamber!

      In this new aspect I examined it. It was the least like one that could be imagined. It was a lofty, spacious, cheerful, double-bedded room, with four large windows—two on the east and two on the west side—with a fireplace in the south wall, and the heads of the beds, at some distance apart, against the north wall. Between the two east windows was a pretty dressing-table and glass; between the west windows was a neat washstand with a china service; on each side of the fireplace were two spacious clothes closets; before the fire sat two easy-chairs; in intermediate spaces around the walls were half a dozen other chairs.

      I examined the clothes closets, and found them entirely empty, and at the service of my dresses; then I looked under the bed; then beneath the drapery of the dressing-table; and finding nothing that should not be there, undressed myself, said my prayers, blew out my candle, and went to bed.

      I could not sleep; my mind, my nerves, had for some reason become unusually excited; and, despite of extreme fatigue, I lay awake. I thought the room was too light; for, though the candle was extinguished, a glowing fire burned upon the hearth, a few yards from the foot of my bed, and the light of the now risen moon streamed into the east windows. After turning from side to side, vainly wooing slumber, I arose and went to close the east front windows. As I reached them with this purpose, I stayed my hand a moment, while I looked out at the snow-clad, moon-lit mountain landscape; below me was the bottom, bounded, not many furlongs off, by the cedar-grown precipice, down which, that very evening, I had come; under the shelter of that mountain, straight in the line of my vision, lay the family graveyard of the former owner, in a copse of evergreens, where the spectral-looking tombstones gleamed whitely among the dark firs and cedars. Meditating upon those departed, I closed the blinds of the front windows, and then went to the back ones.

      The latter looked straight down into the uncurtained windows of the lighted dining-room, where the young people were still at play. Above these windows, and directly opposite to mine, were those of Mrs. Legare's bedroom, now dimly lighted from the fire within.

      With this proximity of the family, I felt less lonely, closed my blinds, and returned to bed.

      Still I could not sleep. The fire on the hearth, beyond my bed's foot, flickered up and down, casting tall, spectral shadows, that danced upon the walls, or stretched their long arms over the ceiling. For hours I lay watching this phantasmagoria, until the fire died down, and the tall, dancing shadows sank into a mass of darkness, before sleep came to my wearied senses. But scarcely had I closed my eyes upon the natural world before a strange vision, or dream, if you prefer to call it so, passed before me. Methought I heard the click of a turning key; I opened my eyes, and saw the door slowly swing back upon its hinges, and a lady of dark, majestic beauty, dressed in deep mourning, and having a pale and care-worn face, enter